Scarred
by CheckeredSneakers
Summary: [PreBeforeCrisis] Reno's a new recruit for the Turks. Desperate to prove himself, he takes on a top level mission. But what scars will this mission leave with him?


**A/N:** This was originally intended for a contest over at a club in deviantART, where the object was to write a story or draw a comic regarding how Reno came to get the marks on his face. I've been writing at it on and off for a bit now, and so far we are far, FAR away from where he ever gets the marks XD I may end up just writing it for fun and not for the contest. Either way, comments and crit would be lovely. But flames are mean. If you flame you're just a sad, sad person. (Just as a note this has been beta-ed six ways to Tuesday, so I hope dearly there aren't any mistakes XD) Rating may change depending on how foul mouthed the boy gets.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

_You know,_ he thought,_ this whole… TURK thing… it's kind of… Hard._

And you couldn't really blame him for thinking it, either. Reno Tarshil, only two weeks into his new post at the so-called Administrative Research office, was already in it pretty damn deep. Sure, the initiation had kicked his ass, but he didn't really expect the actual work to be on the same level. _Remember what they say about 'assuming', Reno. "Makes an 'ass' outta 'you' and 'me.' Hahaha…_

_

* * *

_  
"This has been marked as a Level One assassination assignment," Heidigger said, pacing in front of a line of blue-suited men and women. "The target is a Wutaian lord. His name is Daichi Goro. He's from a long line of warlords, and frankly they've been getting on Shinra's nerves. I'd like to throw him off a bridge myself, but…" Heidigger fidgeted with his tie. "We're sending you. Alright, senior members step forward. Let's see, for this mission, I'll send … Adrian and Xuyen. Alright, questions?"

The door to the conference room swung open smoothly, and a young man in a white uniform stood in the doorway. Heidigger turned and saluted. "Mr. Shinra."

The man walked in, pushing light blond hair away from his face. Reno watched him; he was only one or two years older than Reno and seemed to have an ego a mile across. He stood next to Heidigger, and scrutinized the line of men and women in front of him, all standing straight, emotionless… except Reno at the end, who was slumped over, his shirt untucked, jacket open, and tie missing completely. Shinra slowly paced over, the clicks of his polished shoes against the hardwood floor echoing softly around the chamber. He stared at Reno, apparently sizing him up, then turned to Heidigger.

"Send this one."

Heidigger started. "Sir, Tarshil just finished initiation last week! There's no way he'll be able to handle a Level O—"

"I said send him, Heidigger. Do it, because I _know_ you don't want to be reported to my father." Shinra smirked. "I'd like to see how he does…"

"I…" Heidigger flustered. "Yes. Immediately, sir." He coughed. "Tarshil!"

"Sir…" Reno muttered, straightening up a bit.

"You'll be taking the LC-57365 chopper out of here bright and early tomorrow morning! You have helicopter clearance, right? Yeah, I thought so. Rude will be your Senior escort." Heidigger pointed to a tall, bald man near the other end of the line, decorated with various piercings. Sunglasses shielded his eyes; Reno rolled his own. "Sure…" he said. Rude remained silent. _Well, isn't he just going to be the biggest thrill of my life._

_

* * *

_  
Reno wasn't worrying too much about the whole assignment thing. Level Ones, he had learned, were the most dangerous assignments, with a high fatality potential, but on the whole he thought he'd be able to handle it. _After all_, he thought,_ if I get too deep into this, I can shove that Rude guy into the line of fire and make a break for it… I _am_ the one with the keys to the chopper._

A short train trip and he was home, if you could call it that; a small apartment in a small complex on top of the Sector Three plate. It wasn't high class, but it was certainly better than what lay below; the slums of Midgar, the circle of poverty lying beneath the so-called 'rotting pizza'. Reno sighed, and, as the train pulled to a stop, slowly got up from his seat in the nearly-empty cab. The only other passengers were a couple; the girl sleeping, sprawled across four seats, and the boy staring disinterestedly at the map of Midgar displayed on the screen across the aisle from him.

"Now arriving at Midgar Plate Station Number 15 – Sector Three Residential area. Please stand clear of the yellow line until the doors are fully opened –" Reno ignored the monotonic instructions issuing from the speaker mounted to his right, and pushed through the doors as soon as they opened wide enough for him to get through. The station was brightly lit and relatively clean, though almost empty. Over the station's intercom, a girl cheerfully informed the inhabitants of the station (all four of them) that the time was 21:47 Midgar Standard Time, have a nice day, and thank you for riding Shinra locomotive services! _Whatever._

Reno slowly made his way to the apartment complexes, pulling a wallet out of his (rather wrinkled) pants, and slipping a keycard out of the fold. He pushed it into the slot next to the door to Apartment 45-B, and entered the foyer, pulling off his jacket as he went.

As apartments went, it wasn't too bad, though he supposed that it could be a little better. When he started getting some money from this job, he'd move out._ Why does a sixteen-year-old like him live in an apartment by himself? Shouldn't he be in the slums? And what does he do for money? _Reno heard the whispers all the time, entering and exiting that damned building, and frankly, he was getting sick of being judged like that. He'd show them…

Throwing the jacket on a small coat tree just inside the door, he stepped into a small living area and collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to remove the goggles pushed up on his forehead.

He was in the middle of a deep, dreamless sleep, when a shrill tone suddenly pierced the darkness around him, and he jerked awake. His cellphone, lying on his stomach, was vibrating, and emitting a truncated version of something he had heard once at the races in the Golden Saucer. He rubbed his eyes, and stared at the bright display – the number wasn't one he recognized. Grumbling, Reno flipped it open and put it up to his ear. "Yeah, who the hell's this?"

"It's Rude."

"Yeah? I didn't know you talked."

"……..."

"Anyway, what do you want?"

"You're late. Get down to the Shinra airfield by 0830 or you get to deal with Heidigger, and trust me, that's not something you'll want to do."

"Sure, whatever." Reno flipped the slim phone shut, and slid off his couch. He looked down at the phone in his hand again, the small display proudly blinking the time – 8:00 am. _Oh. Great._ He looked down at himself, sizing up his appearance – just as haphazard as usual. "Not like it matters…" He slipped into his kitchen and pried open a small drawer next to the fridge, revealing a number of items issued to him by Shinra Inc. – his ID, which he shoved into his pocket, a .45 semiautomatic, and a sort of retracted taser, upon which the words "ELECTRO-MAGNETIC ROD" were etched, along with the Shinra logo. Reno ignored the handgun entirely and instead looped the strap of the EMR around his left wrist and headed back through the front door out into the cold morning air, barely remembering to grab his jacket on the way out.


End file.
